I1: Fallen Soldiers

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Soldier 1:

I always take sugar with my coffee, but that morning I didn't
have time. I put a spoon of granules in the cup, immediately
poured in the only half boiled water. I was in such a rush that
when I looked out the window to see if Chaim was there
yet, I banged my arm on the shutter and spilt most of my
early morning caffeine fix down the front of my blouse. I went to wash it out just as Chaim called up, 'Nu? You coming?' So I ran down the stairs looking a mess. I remember all this quite clearly.

Chaim explained that the Arabs had stepped up the bombing during the night. I smiled and asked him if he thought I'd slept through it! That's Chaim, treats me like a kid. Often he'd explain things and dwell on the most obvious parts. One thing though he respected and that was how I handled a gun, especially on that day. We sat all morning by the wall. Looking out. Scanning the area for movement. Defenders of the Old City of Jerusalem, just days after Ben Gurion had declared to the world that we were an independent state.

I got to thinking. My brother had taught me to shoot. Amos was in the Irgun, a good fighter. I liked guns. Aiming, the feel of fire power, it was a challenge to control. Back then it was important and, even as a woman, they gave me respect. There hadn't been a frontal attack for some time and I was sure the silence would continue. Stupid really. But we always think things will stay the same. Of course, the Arabs would take the Old City if they could and we'd escape or die defending it. But sitting there then, it didn't feel like anything big was going to happen.

When the shooting started I reacted quicker than Chaim. Before we ducked for cover I saw the origin of the shots. The firing though was too intense to retaliate. We sat tight for those hour-long seconds and then returned fire. Down again and then back up to shoot. Like kids' yo-yos. I'm sure I hit three and I smiled to myself. Proud. I actually smiled at the death of others...

And then, suddenly, I was thrown back, pinned against the truck. I never realised the force of a bullet. I looked down. Blood red on my coffee stained blouse. Then my eyes closed and I could hear the battle no longer.

In those last few moments of life, I forgot about my precious gun. I'm a woman. Maybe I never should have picked one up in the first place. I should be standing behind the men being protected. I should pour coffee for them and smile sweetly. But then, in 1948, women fought, everyone fought. We had no choice, every able body was needed.

...become a wife, a mother. I never did those things. But I never knew them to miss them. Feeling the love of a twenty year marriage, holding my child when they're in pain, smiling at the thought of a big family... times I never had... Remember me. I can't remind you of your mother and I don't fit the image of a soldier, but please remember me.

(Soldier 1 sits down and soldier 2 gets up to speak)

Continued